Heart of Stone
by Lei-lassassin
Summary: A strange drink of orange juice leaves Tucker at a loss. New feelings surge through him and he finds himself falling for the most unlikely candidate in Blood Gulch. RvB oneshot.
1. Rough Beginnings

_Challenge for the Red vs. Blue Review Crew forum on crack pairings. Has to include a WTF crack pairing and orange juice must be mentioned._

_My crack pairing: Tucker x Tucker's Rock_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Heart of Stone**

Love is a strange thing. Private Tucker discovered this on a Friday morning in spring. A stupid bitch Freelancer called Tex had just been blown up in a tank, Church was dead and pissed that his half-shark girlfriend had just been incinerated with a grenade, and Caboose was an idiot.

Nothing new.

Shuffling into the dining room, Tucker stretched and yawned. He wasn't overly fond of mornings, but it meant he could have time to himself for an hour or so. Church was a lazy fucker; he stayed in bed until Caboose did something to annoy him (like the time he'd drawn a curly moustache on Church's face in permanent marker), and Caboose usually spent most mornings having the shit beaten out of him by Church.

The fridge had little of interest in it. Most of the food was off or healthy, which was not Tucker's style. What sort of person wouldn't eat pizza deep-fried in bacon fat and sprinkled with marshmallows? Sighing, the Blue soldier shut the door. He'd just have to starve.

Turning to make a cup of coffee, Tucker paused. There, sat on the table, was a carton of orange juice.

Why wasn't it in the fridge?

Perhaps a cool, refreshing glass of orange juice would be what he needed to start his day off. Technically it was healthy, but the temperature was high that day. He could risk it.

Picking up the carton, Tucker raised it to his lips and had a mouthful.

"Tucker, we have glasses!" Church bellowed from his room, causing Tucker to choke and spit out an orange fountain all over the breakfast table. "And you can clean that up!"

"Ew, that's gross!" Caboose cried, poking his head into the kitchen and pulling a face. A shoe hit him in the back of the head, which had been thrown with force by Church.

"Shut up, moron."

Tucker rolled his eyes and fetched a glass. How the hell had Church even seen that anyway?

Deciding not to dwell on stuff he didn't care about, Tucker left the carton of juice on the table and wandered outside in his aqua jogging bottoms and white vest top. The Reds wouldn't be a danger at this time of the day. For starters, Grif wouldn't even be awake. It was a battle that rang around the canyon every day, with Sarge screaming his guts out for his most hated soldier to haul his ass out of bed. As if on cue, a southern accent cut into the bland silence of Blood Gulch.

"Grif! How many times have I told you that getting Donut to carry your armour around the perimeter of the base does _not_ count as a morning run?"

"Aw, come on, Sarge! You wouldn't have noticed if Donut hadn't been running so fast!"

"I don't care, Grif! You do a morning run every day! And Donut, if you're going to fake a Grif moving, you need to do it properly, damn it! Research your subject; study its movement patterns...which don't exist! If you'd have left the armour on the floor I'd have accepted that..!"

"Excellent observation, sir!" Simmons piped up.

Tucker shook his head and strolled across the dusty terrain, bare footed. He had all the time in the world.

And a glass of orange juice.

It was a peculiar glass of orange juice. It was in an average, misty glass, cold and orange. It looked extremely drinkable and tasty...and yet an essence of pure evil radiated from the depth of its juicy interior, calling to him, begging him to succumb to the taint that lay within it.

_Taste the fruit of my loins_, it whispered to him. _Take me, Tucker. Oh! Take me!_

"Shut the fuck up, juice," Tucker muttered, secretly aroused. He knocked back the orange juice in one go and then burped loudly. Definitely an eight.

Finally, he reached his goal...his sanctuary: his rock. Moving around it, he let his fingers trail slowly on the hard exterior, savouring its touch.

_Hard exterior..._

"Bow-Chika-Bo-" he began, and then paused. "Wait, that's kinda gay."

Tucker stepped back, feeling strange. The empty glass fell from his hand and landed on the floor with a clunk, but he didn't notice. Instead, Tucker stared at his rock, his head tilted to one side. Women's nipples could be hard in correct temperature, right? And on closer inspection, Tucker could see that his rock was clearly a woman.

"Hey," Tucker said softly, swaggering over to his rock. "I see you've got a crack. Mind if I dig into it? _Bow-Chika-Bow-Wow."_

Silence.

_Playing hard to get, eh?_ Tucker thought to himself, intrigued. Usually girls would react to his chat ups (negatively, admittedly, but still), but this one was...different. However, he knew if he tried enough, he catch her out.

"Baby, I'm a Geologist. I'm qualified to sample your earthly delights. _Bow-Chika-Bow-Wow._"

"Was that an earthquake, or did I just rock your world? _Bow-Chika-Bow-Wow."_

"'How about I cause a tremor in your fault line? _Bow-Chika-Bow-Wow."_

Again, nothing. Tucker was confused. He was beginning to feel overwhelmed with a funny flipping sensation in his stomach and a fluttering in his chest. This lady would not be won over with sweet nothings. He needed to prove himself to his love...and he knew exactly how...

* * *

"We must watch our enemies at all times! Who knows what treachery those dirty Blues could be plotting? They could be formulating a way to destroy us all at this very moment!"

"Alright, alright! Calm down," Grif snapped, gritting his teeth as Sarge pointed his shotgun in Grif's direction. Being dragged out of bed before midday was the bane of his life, but at least he could stack his armour up against the Warthog and go back to bed once the morning crawl was done. Sarge never noticed...or at least pretended not to notice to avoid having to be near Grif as much as possible.

Good times.

He lifted the sniper rifle to his visor and peered through it, expecting to see Tucker at his rock again. Grif had installed a camcorder on the scope of the sniper rifle, meaning he could take footage to blackmail with later.

Grif's eyes widened with surprise at the sight he was greeted to.

"Simmons!" he hissed, motioning for the maroon solider to come closer.

"What?" Simmons said sharply, expecting to be asked if Sarge was distracted enough for Grif to return to bed. The thought of Grif in bed made his cheeks flush slightly and he shook his head in embarrassment.

"...what are you shaking your head for?" the orange soldier asked, forgetting his original motives.

"Nothing!" Simmons replied quickly, his voice coming out higher than he'd intended. He quickly coughed and repeated himself. "Nothing. What's up?"

"Look over at Tucker's rock, man."

"I am _not _looking through that thing again, Grif. You didn't even prepare me for it last time."

"Seriously, just take a look."

Simmons muttered to himself as Grif forced the sniper rifle into his hands, flinching only slightly as the orange soldier's fingers brushed against his. He basked in the moment, and then remembered himself, looking through the gun.

"...what the fuck?"

* * *

Tucker strummed awkwardly on Church's guitar, hoping he wouldn't be caught before his serenade was finished. The Blue leader was fiercely protective of the stupid instrument, and it was only because Caboose had put snakes in Church's bed to 'play' had Tucker managed to snatch the thing away during the chaos.

Not that he knew how to play a guitar. However, he thought he was doing pretty well until the G string snapped, shooting back and cutting his cheek.

"Fuck!" Tucker yelled, clutching at his face and dropping the guitar with a harmonic crash. Church appeared at the door of the base.

"Uh," Tucker began as Church stood staring at him. "Now, Church, let's not get mad. I had a drink of bad OJ which made me fall in love with a rock and-"

"That's my guitar," Church said quietly. "And I am going to kill you."

* * *

"Oooh, Church is firing the sniper rifle at Tucker!" Donut gasped, peering through his own scope. The entire Red Team stood on top of base watching the Blues through their sniper rifles.

"Yeah, but he can't shoot for shit," Simmons said, snorting. "The Blue will be fine."

"This is the best entertainment since Janet Jackson's woozah fell out of her top at that award show!" Sarge said happily.

* * *

Caboose wandered about the base humming to himself. He could hear best friend Church shooting at stupid Tucker, which was fine. Tucker was dumb and deserved to have best friend Church be mean to him.

"_Church, calm the fuck dow—ahh! That hit me in the—ow! Stop it!"_

Ignoring Tucker's screams of pain, Caboose opened the medicine cabinet where his medication lay. His mother had told him that he had to take it every day, and that it had to be mixed with a drink beforehand.

Caboose smiled. He had been doing what he had been told to, just like a good boy!

Picking up the carton of orange juice on the table, Caboose inserted six pills into the carton and then shook it vigorously. He had done this every day – just like mom had said – ever since he had arrived at Blood Gulch, but usually something distracted him and he would forget to—

"Oh my God," Caboose gasped, placing the orange juice back on the table as he spotted the snake he had put in Church's bed on the floor. "Mr Worm, you need to go back! You will make Church mad if you are not protecting him at all times from evil Tucker. I am trusting you."

Picking the snake up, Caboose strolled back to Church's room.

The orange juice remained innocently on the table.


	2. Rocky Relations

**Rocky Relations**

The rock incident had been a terrible embarrassment.

Tucker never found out exactly what caused his moment of madness, but ever since he had given the orange juice cartons in the fridge a wide berth. The healed sniper rifle wound on his left thigh was more than enough of an incentive not go near juice since. Church had been so mad at the abuse of his guitar that he'd actually managed to _aim_.

Tucker never wanted such a horrific crime against nature to occur in his lifetime again.

_Ever._

Of course, now he had something else to hold his attention and distract him from the rock digs spouted by Church. Sister had been a new addition to the team not long ago and boy did she have a big chest. He couldn't remember what her face was like again; only that she was partial to wearing yellow and had a tough time squeezing into her armour without being well lubrica—

"Gross."

Tucker snapped out of his daydream to see a disgruntled Church sitting up in his bed, glaring, hair ruffled from his pillow.

"I know things have been awkward between you and your rock since your last date," Church growled darkly, "but do you have to do that in _here_?"

Tucker looked down at his crotch and flushed. He'd been so caught up in his thoughts of Sister...

"Don't be such a dick," Tucker said airily, trying to cover humiliation with insults. Church raised an eyebrow.

"Me being a dick? Says the guy who-"

"Alright, alright, I'm _going._ Asshole."

Tucker slid out of bed and shuffled away, trying to hide the bulge in his shorts from Church as he did. The Blue leader grinned with amusement and then settled back down into bed. He had completed his 'be a prick' goal for the day...and it wasn't even dawn yet.

"Wait, that sounded...too...literal," Church mumbled to himself, thinking of Tucker. Then he shrugged and snuggled up to his warm pillow. "Ah, whatever. Fuck it."

Church closed his eyes and felt himself starting to slip into sleep. It had been a tough day yesterday, what with the lack of water, ignoring the Reds, ignoring Tucker, and ignoring Caboose. If ignoring was an Olympic sport, Church would have been a gold medallist. As far as the Blue was concerned, it should be. People didn't appreciate how difficult it was to ignore people. Some were just impossible to ignore, like...

"Church?"

Church blearily opened his eyes, too tired to even shout at whoever had just woken him up. He squinted through the darkness and then froze.

"Sister?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Where...where the hell is your shirt...and bra?"

Sister shrugged. "I thought you might know."

Church found he couldn't tear his eyes away from her chest as it bounced freely. It was magnificent...

"Church?" the female Blue soldier asked, looking at him, puzzled.

"Whuh?"

"My shirt and bra. _They're missing._"

"Ohh...ohh, that's...nice."

"Whatever." Sister rolled her eyes and put down a small glass bottle that she had been holding. Church watched her with wide eyes as she began to search around the room for whatever she was looking for again. Eventually she straightened up, causing Church to let out a small moan. Sister didn't seem to notice.

"Not here...well, I'm going to go look elsewhere. Maybe I left them out to dry on the washing line. If you see my things, let me know, OK?"

"Muhhh..."

* * *

Tucker hobbled outside, blushing fiercely. It wasn't enough that he tried to make love to a rock, oh no...now he had to have an erection in front of Church, too.

Cursing, Tucker slowly approached the rock, feeling nervous. He'd led his rock on last time; made out they were more than just friends...and then not called her back since.

Tucker paused.

"Listen to yourself, man," he muttered, shaking his head. "It's a fucking _rock_. Inanimate object and all that."

Somehow he felt guilty for saying it. Like the rock was listening to his every word. How rude of him.

"Look, Rock," Tucker said nervously, trying to hide his crotch from the rock with his hands. "No hard feelings, eh? _Bow Chicka Bow Wow_."

The rock seemed to accept his apology and even rolled its non-existent eyes at his catch phrase. Tucker smiled and sat at the base of the rock, content everything had been sorted.

"Sister...where...where the hell is your shirt...and bra?"

Tucker jumped slightly at the sound of Church's voice sounding from the open window of the base. He didn't realise how easily everything could be heard from here. Did that mean all the times he was at his rock...?

Before Tucker could fully comprehend this new horror, Sister spoke words that were music to his ears.

"My shirt and bra. _They're missing._"

Missing?

A whole new world was opened to Tucker at that very moment. Shirtless Sister was like a dream come true. If he could locate the bra and shirt and hide them for good, then...

"Not here...well, I'm going to go look elsewhere. Maybe I left them out to dry on the washing line..."

Tucker perked up immediately. Sister was coming outside?

_Topless?_

Christmas had just come early.

Tucker stood up and cleared his throat. It was time to practice the perfect line.

"Hey, Sister! What you doing out here? Oh, you're half-naked; I hadn't noticed. Want me to be your bra and hold your breasts? _Bow Chicka Bow Wow._"

Tucker paused and then sighed, sagging slightly. "Nah, that doesn't sound right."

He coughed loudly as if coughing would assist in the creation of the killer pick up line, walked around his rock, and then tried again.

"_Hey, Sister..."

* * *

_

Church turned over groggily, wondering what else was going to wake him up tonight. He'd only just managed to get back to sleep after Sister's little escapade into his room. If Tex ever found out about it, she'd be pissed. The bitch wouldn't ever admit it, but she definitely had feelings for him.

Church's thoughts on Tex were immediately cut short by a voice from outside. He strained to hear it and identified it as Tucker.

"_Hey, Sister..."_

Oh God. Sister must be out there with him, looking for her stupid bra. Tucker and Sister...

"You must be kinda chilly. Want me to warm you up? _Bow-Chicka-Bow-Wow..."_

Church quickly glanced about for his earplugs before remembering he'd lost them the day Caboose had put snakes in his bed. The Blue soldier had taken to wearing them ever since Tucker had started visiting his rock; sound travelled and it usually travelled in the direction of Church.

His earplugs had been his Godsend until the day Tucker sang to a rock...but then again, the aqua soldier had been too embarrassed to go to his rock since. Still, the earplugs had stayed lost; Church had never gotten around to replacing them (namely because there was nowhere he could get replacements) and was now going to pay for it.

Oh so _dearly_.

A sense of dread hit Church like he'd never been hit before (and considering how he'd been punched by Tex while she was PMSing, this was a pretty forceful hit). He needed something to throw and fast.

A glass bottle sat on his bedside table. He had no idea how it had gotten there, but glass bottles tended to be fairly lethal. Lethal to other people meant to Church a decent and non-disturbing night's sleep...and if Tucker was still alive in the morning after having it thrown at his head, the vegetative state he'd be in would be an improvement.

Church jumped out of his bed and grasped the bottle before striding over to the window. In one smooth movement, he hurled it out of the window and in the direction of Tucker. There was a smash and a cry of surprise, which gave Church hope. The Blue leader peered over the edge and then groaned in anguish. The bottle had missed Tucker and hit the rock.

"Someone must have fucked with the sights on this window," he muttered.

"What the fuck?" Tucker yelled up at him, waving his arms. "Dude, that could have hit me!"

"That was just a warning!" Church bellowed back, hoping to save some of his dignity. "Just do me a favour and get a room!"

Church considered this.

"Not this room, though! Anywhere but this room! I swear to God, Tucker, if you two come in here and—you know what; don't even come in the base. Just...just go into those cliffs over there and make as little noise as possible! Morons."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"What the fuck...what the fuck am I talking about? I'm talking about you an-!"

Church was interrupted by a sniper shot whizzing past his nose.

"Will you Blues shut the fuck up?" shouted a voice that sounded awfully like Simmons. "Some of us are trying to get some sleep!"

"What—but I—fuckin'—you-" Church spluttered.

"You heard the man!" yelled another voice that could have belonged to Sarge. "We have early morning runs that we have to be prepared for! On Blue Team you may like to laze around, but the Reds will be ever vigilant!"

There was a slight pause, and then:

"Grif!" the-person-that-may-have-been-Sarge roared. Church opened his mouth to retort but he-who-was-possibly-Sarge was too busy shouting at someone else. "Because we need you to fill in your lazy dirt bag quota, that's why! We need to be on form; do what others expect of us! Say it! ..._ Saaaay iiiit._"

"Early morning runs are the best thing ever because I suffer and they make my life unbearable," someone shouted back in a bored tone that suggested they'd rather not be here.

Church shook his head, giving up.

"Fuck you, Reds; nobody asked you," he mumbled under his breath, feeling like it was his duty somehow.

"Suck it, Blue!" someone cried out in the distance as soon as he'd said it. It was like they'd been waiting for him to insult them. Church had long since stopped caring however and stomped off back to bed. At least now Tucker and Sister wouldn't disturb him.

* * *

"Will you Blues shut the fuck up?" Simmons said through the megaphone in his hand. He was dressed in a big, fluffy dressing gown and wore slippers on his feet. "Some of us are trying to get some sleep!"

"Excellent demand, Simmons," Sarge praised, who unlike the rest of his squad, was dressed in full battle armour.

"Thank you, sir!"

Sarge cleared his throat and then turned to the direction of the Blue base.

"You heard the man!" he yelled. "We have early morning runs that we have to be prepared for! On Blue Team you may like to laze around, but the Reds will be ever vigilant!"

"That was quite the burn, sir."

"It was, wasn't it?" Sarge was pleased with himself. Now for the final part of their newly devised plan, 'Operation Beddy-Boo Time'...

There was a long silence where the next perso—creatur—inanimate object should have spoke. Sarge looked over his shoulder to see his last speaker sleeping standing up.

"Grif!"

Grif snorted awake and then glared at Sarge.

"I'm not doing it!" he said defiantly, straightening out his footsie pyjamas.

"What did you say, Private?"

"I'm not doing it, _sir._"

"Much better...but you're still doing it!"

"Why am I even here? You don't need _me_ to tell the Blues to shut the fuck up about whatever they're talking about!"

"Because you have to fill in your lazy dirt bag quota, that's why! We need to be on form; do what others expect of us!"

Grif stared at his superior officer.

"Also, because it makes you miserable," Sarge added thoughtfully.

"That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"Say it!"

"Aw, come on-"

"_Saaaay iiiit._"

Grif sighed.

* * *

Tucker watched the Reds bicker amongst themselves for a few minutes before disappearing over the hill and going back to their own base. Stupid Reds. They could have got in the way of him and...

"Sister!" he said sharply to himself. He looked around frantically. She must have come outside by now. Stupid Reds and stupid Church distracting him...

Suddenly he became aware of a musky fragrance filling the air. He sniffed twice and then smiled widely. He recognised the scent; it was none other than Sister's favourite perfume. It was then he noticed footprints at his rock.

She was hiding from him!

"Damn, that's hot," he said, mimicking his prey. Tucker glanced up at the window to check Church wasn't watching and then walked around the rock casually.

"Hey, Sister! Fancy seeing you her..." he began and then trailed off. Sister was nowhere to be seen. The footprints were still there, though, continuing with the edge of the rock. Clearly, she knew he was there and was teasing him. He was certain he heard her giggle.

Tucker set off into a run around the rock, following the footprints. She couldn't outrun him forever and when he caught up with her, he'd show her just how talented Lavernius Tucker could be...

* * *

Breakfast was quiet that morning, but Church couldn't understand why. Caboose had been given a separate mealtime to the rest of the squad months ago, but even so, something was missing.

"Huh," Sister said aloud. "It's weird, Tucker not being here to accidently spill milk on my shirt and asking me to take it off. Kinda hot."

"Yeah yeah," Church snapped. Because of Sister, he was tired and when he was tired, he was crankier than usual. At least Tucker and Sister had kept it down.

Church blinked and stared at the spot where Tucker usually sat. The room was quiet because Tucker wasn't here sexually harassing Sister.

"Uh..." Church began with an air of uncertainty. "Where's Tucker?"

"How should I know?"

"Well, weren't you outside with him looking for your clothes on the washing line?"

"Nah. I found my bra and shirt in the fridge next to the orange juice."

"So where the hell is Tuc...did you say next to the orange juice?"

Sister gave Church a look somewhere between confusion and suspicion.

"Yeah. Why?"

"No matter," Church replied hastily. "We're going to have to find out where Tucker is, though, or...but seriously, next to the orange juice?"

Sister stared at him, making him feel uncomfortable. Whatever the reasons were for the bra and shirt ending up next to the orange juice, Church decided he'd have to have a little talk with Caboose after they'd found Tucker. Or before. Lying in a ditch with a broken spine probably wasn't that bad, after all.

Or maybe he should just go find Tucker.

* * *

"Tucker!"

Tucker groaned and sat up, one side of his face covered in dirt. He rubbed his eyes and then hissed as the grit stung, smacking his face in an attempt to get rid of it.

"What the hell are you doing?"

The aqua soldier squinted through the mud to see a very tired Church standing over him with his arms folded.

_Uh oh. Tired Church means worse than Tex when she's on her—_

"Why are you even out here?" Church snarled.

"I was looking for Sister and I must have fallen asleep!" Tucker cried defensively, standing up and glaring back at the Blue leader.

"See, that's what I don't get. Sister was inside all night. She was looking for her, er, something...and found them...uh, I mean it. It. She found it. What in God's name made you think she was out here?"

"Footprints!" Tucker said, waving his arms in the direction of the footsteps around the rock. "And perfume!"

Church sniffed the air. It did indeed smell like Sister. Then he noticed a broken, yellow bottle on the floor – a broken, yellow perfume bottle to be precise.

"You idiot; I threw a bottle at you last night! It hit the rock and smashed! Sister must have left it in my room when she was asking where her stuff was."

"Oh yeah? Well if that's true, then how to you explain the footprints?"

The Blue Team leader walked over to the rock and crouched down, inspecting the footsteps. They indicated the person they belonged to had large feet (for a girl) and had walked barefoot. Church glanced up at Tucker and then looked down. He began to laugh.

"What?" Tucker asked, not appreciating being left out of the joke. "What? What's so funny?"

"Hate to break it to you, Tucker." Church stood up, grinning. "You've become officially retarded."

"Why?"

"Those are _your_ footprints, you idiot. You were stalking _yourself._"

"How the hell did you come to _that_ shitty conclusion?"

"Look at your feet. When you figure it out, I'll be inside helping myself to your share of the food. Your provisions have been docked now that you're on Caboose's level of thinking."

As Church sauntered away sniggering to himself, Tucker looked down at his feet.

They were black and covered in mud.

Still not quite believing it, Tucker sidled over to the footprints and carefully put his foot into one of them. It fit perfectly.

"Oh, fuckberries," Tucker moaned, his cheeks flushing red. He'd been following his own footprints around the rock all night. Tucker would never live this down. His teammates would ridicule him forever. Even Caboose would be able to laugh at him after this.

Tucker looked at his rock and smiled sadly.

"At least you're still on my side," he said, patting his rock. The cold of the rock bit into his hand and he withdrew it sharply, gasping. His rock had never been so cold before. Unless...

"Aw, you're not mad at me, are you?" he wailed. The rock said nothing, radiating stony indifference at Tucker. The Blue soldier realised what had happened. He, Tucker, had been chasing another girl in front of her and for that, whatever the rock and he had once had was now gone. It was too late.

Feeling a sense of loss, Tucker walked slowly and sadly back to the base.

* * *

"Hey, Tucker," Church gloated, helping himself to Tucker's stash of mayonnaise and spreading it liberally on his sandwich, "as the new Caboose of the team, you get to be my servant."

Tucker said nothing, sat at the table staring glumly at the wall. It had been a week later and all he could think of was his rock. How on earth could he make it up to her?

"You're not still thinking about that dumb old rock, are you?" Church said when his teammate didn't reply. Tucker looked up at him, scowling deeply.

"She is not a dumb old rock!" he shot back, his tone sharp. Church snorted.

"Ooooh, getting emotional over objects now, are we? At least Caboose had the sense to pick a girlfriend that could talk back."

"Better than a chick who punches you for fun," Tucker retorted, feeling his temper rising.

"Whatever. Make me a drink, Rookie," Church said, glaring.

"Rookie?" Tucker started. Then he realised he didn't have the energy to argue. "Fine. Whatever. Cold or hot?"

"Cold." Church was smirking triumphantly.

Tucker ignored the Blue leader and made his way to the fridge. Wrenching it open, he scanned it before his eyes settled on a particular drink. For a moment, he stared blankly at it and then a dark smile settled on his lips. Taking a glass from the cupboard, he poured out Church's drink and then presented it graciously.

"Does Caboose know you've taken this?" Church asked. "He gets a little touchy when people take his things."

"Nah, he's cool with it," Tucker said calmly. Church narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him for a moment and then shrugged.

"I'm his 'best friend', apparently. "He'll forgive me. Besides, I love this stuff."

Tucker sat back down at the table and stared at the beverage with manic glee.

"So do I, Church. So do I..."

The glass of orange juice stared innocently back.

* * *

_Author's Notes: I originally got this idea from Kyrianne's RvB sentence thingy, which makes a random sentence up. Some were disturbing, but I eventually received 'Tucker stalked Tucker because he wanted to.'_

_Despite being told there was no way I could make a story out of such a sentence, I wanted to prove people wrong...only I got bored of writing it. Then I decided I wanted to finish it for Casa's birthday._

_Happy Birthday, Casa. Sorry it was late!_

_Lance~_


End file.
